


Stand and Burn

by coricomile



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fingerfucking, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Panty Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heat crawled up the back of his neck but he refused to linger on it. He faced down aliens on a daily basis. A pair of women’s underthings would not defeat him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://awabubbles.tumblr.com/post/113300371207/myfavpantymn-three-pairs-of-really-beautiful) post. For the record, I was thinking of the blue ones. Also, headcanon is that Ianto would be willing to do (almost) anything Jack asked, but would bitch the whole way for prosperity.

“I think sometimes you deliberately do things to make me feel like an idiot,” Ianto said, frowning down at his hands. Behind him, Jack laughed broad and open and wide. The sound bounced off the walls of his room, folding back in on itself. It was a sound that Ianto kept curled into his chest, a reminder of good when the dark got too heavy. 

“I would never,” Jack said, still grinning wide enough to show his teeth. He leaned forward, stomach pressed to the mattress, and poked his finger into a soft spot over Ianto’s waist. Ianto batted at his hand half-heartedly. “Go on. Put them on.”

“Is that an order, sir?” Ianto asked. He rubbed his thumb over an embroidered flower and scowled. His hip ached from where he’d smashed it against a desk, and his eyes felt dry from sleeplessness, and he was holding _knickers_ that Jack expected him to _wear_ like some bloody tart. Jack leaned in closer and bit at his back, catching skin between his teeth just hard enough to sting. 

“Humor me,” Jack said, voice muffled into Ianto’s hip. 

“If I humor you anymore, you’ll die of mirth.” Ianto sighed and reached back to push Jack away. Jack licked his palm lewdly before settling back down. One day, he would learn to say no and mean it. “I’ll not do it if you watch.”

“Watching is half the fun.” Jack slid his fingers into the waistband of Ianto’s trousers, letting the weight of his hand pull them down as far as they would go. Ianto was suddenly glad for his belt. In these moments, Jack was nothing more than an over-eager child. 

“I will put the ruddy things on, but I will _not_ listen to your awful snorts while I figure out how to-” Ianto gestured vaguely at his crotch. Heat crawled up the back of his neck but he refused to linger on it. He faced down aliens on a daily basis. A pair of women’s underthings would not defeat him. 

“Spoilsport,” Jack said. He rolled onto his back, his terrible camp bed groaning under his weight, and threw an arm over his eyes. 

Ianto waited a moment, watching him through the mirror over the dresser. When Jack showed no signs of peeking, he reluctantly undid his belt and let his trousers and pants fall to the floor. He picked them up and set them on the dresser, fussing with them long enough to steel himself. 

Carefully, Ianto stepped into the knickers, ignoring the scrape of lace and satin over the thick hair of his calves. It made his legs itch uncomfortably. He got them up to his thighs and then paused, staring down at his cock. 

“Can I look yet?” Jack asked. Ianto glanced at the mirror and was pleased to see that Jack hadn’t moved. The bare skin of his chest looked like burnished copper, flat and hard and infinitely smooth. 

“No.” Ianto pressed his lips together and pulled the knickers the rest of the way up. His balls protested instantly. He hoped that once Jack got his fill of his curiosity that he’d be able to remove the offensive things immediately. 

He took a few embarrassing minutes to readjust himself, pulling his cock up against his belly and tucking his balls into the crotch carefully. He would not admit, on pain of death, that the satin did feel a bit nice against his skin. When he could do no more, he took a step back and lifted onto his toes to look.

The line of his cock was plainly visible. Shaft and head and dip and swell where his balls began. An added insult was the tiny white bow that rested right at the tip like a perverse gift wrapping. He pursed his lips and lowered back onto his heels. 

“I feel ridiculous,” Ianto said. He brushed his fingers over the dark hair sticking out of the sides of the panties. “I _look_ ridiculous.” 

The bed creaked, the sound of Jack rolling back onto his stomach, and Ianto forced himself to turn around. The back of the knickers threatened to slide straight up into the crack of his ass. He wondered how women dealt with it constantly. He thanked whatever strange sex god that Jack worshiped that he hadn’t been presented with a thong. Even his dignity could only survive so many blows. 

“Oh, you _are_ lovely,” Jack said. He reached forward, fingertips running featherlight over Ianto’s soft cock. Ianto sucked in a sharp breath. His dick twitched and the satin pulled strangely. Bloody Jack.

“I worry sometimes about your fetishes,” Ianto said, voice barely wavering as Jack smoothed his palm over him, cupping him through the knickers. Heat poured from him, a patch of fire in the cold of the bunker. 

“You _love_ my fetishes,” Jack said, thumb stroking the place where lace met satin. Ianto shifted his weight between his heels, uncomfortable as always with the force of Jack’s full attention. It was a physical thing, dragging him down into this moment and no other. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Your charm is rather lacking.” Ianto let himself be pulled forward. His knees bumped softly against the edge of the mattress. He curled his fingers in Jack’s hair, breaking through the stiff remains of gel. Jack grinned up at him. 

“Lies, Ianto Jones, don’t suit you.” He slid the tip of his nose across the line of Ianto’s cock, breathing him in. “These, however, are brilliant.” The knickers stretched as he hardened, the head of his dick poking out from the top of them. Jack pressed a sucking kiss to it, tongue sliding smooth and slick over his foreskin. 

“I can-” Ianto tightened his fingers in Jack’s hair, biting back a groan when Jack’s mouth moved down. “I can always be persuaded.”

“That’s what I love about you,” Jack said. He mouthed the swell of Ianto’s balls, tongue pressing flat. Wetness seeped into the satin and spread. On the upside, the knickers would be ruined beyond salvaging. “Always willing to listen to reason.”

Jack’s tongue peeked out from between his lips, pink and sweet. He slid it up one side of Ianto’s cock and down the other, leaving a dark trail behind him. When Ianto rocked forward, Jack nipped at his hip. One of the tiny embroidered flowers tore. Ianto reached down to readjust himself, to pull his cock out, to _something_ , but Jack blocked his hand with his head. Ianto pulled at his hair peevishly.

“Patience,” Jack murmured. Ianto would have laughed- _Jack_ , telling _him_ of all people to be patient- but Jack’s mouth closed in over the head of his cock, suckling gently. Ianto’s head fell forward, chin bumping against his chest. Heat curled up in his belly, the pulse of arousal twisting through him. God, but Jack gave fantastic blowjobs. Too soon, Jack moved away. Ianto tried to chase after him, but Jack held him firm. “Turn around.”

Ianto wavered for a moment, head fuzzy, before turning. The knickers had ridden up, too much pressure against them in the front, but he hadn’t noticed. Suddenly, looking ridiculous meant nothing. Not if Jack would just get back on track.

“Absolutely lovely,” Jack said softly. He hooked two fingers in the lacy waistband and pulled up. A whine slipped from Ianto before he could lock it down. His scrotum pressed uncomfortably against his body, and the unfamiliar feeling of fabric against his hole made him squirm. “You’ve no idea.”

“Next time, you can wear the knickers,” Ianto said, palming himself. He thought about it, about Jack in the stupid things, and laughed. Jack sank his teeth into the curve of Ianto’s ass and the laughter died away. 

“Always so cheeky.” Jack rubbed two fingers over the satin, pressing in against Ianto’s hole. Ianto reached forward blindly, trying to find something to brace himself on, but was met with nothing but air. For once, the bunker was too big. “Spread your legs. There you go.” Jack pressed against the insides of Ianto’s thighs, opening them. He felt unbalanced, ready to topple over if touched just right. 

Probably part of Jack’s master plan, Ianto thought with a scowl. There was nothing better in the world for Jack than making him unsteady, one way or another. 

The warm, damp feel of Jack’s tongue between his cheeks was not unexpected, but Ianto still moaned, goosebumps breaking over his skin. Jack licked him through the knickers, soaking them, pressing in as much as the fabric would allow. It was maddening. Not enough, but more than enough to make his poor, trapped cock ache. 

“Do it properly, or don’t- don’t do it at all,” Ianto bit out. 

“Properly?” Jack pulled away, and Ianto regretted speaking immediately. Jack’s hands wrapped around his hips, big and firm, fingertips sinking into his skin. He pushed down on the bruise and Ianto sucked in a sharp breath. His cock throbbed. Once, he thought desperately, he’d had normal sex with normal people who didn’t like biting and panties and public displays. “I’ll show you properly.”

Jack yanked and Ianto flailed backwards, feet coming up from under him and elbows connecting with the broad span of Jack’s chest. He struggled, half-hearted but still annoyed, as Jack wrestled him onto the mattress, shoving his face into the pillows. They smelled like Jack, like bloody fifty-first century pheromones and sex and poncy hair gel. 

“Properly,” Jack said again, all of his amusement jammed into the word. He pulled on Ianto’s hips until he lifted them, head still stuffed between the pillows. The knickers rubbed against him, as present as another person in the room. 

Jack hooked his fingers around the crotch, knuckles brushing against Ianto’s balls, and jerked them to the side. He pressed his face against the dip of Ianto’s back, hands too tight where they gripped Ianto’s thighs. Ianto bucked back against him, teeth sinking into cotton. Pillow biter, he thought, squirming in Jack’s hold. 

“Hands.” Jack grabbed his wrists, pulling them back. It left him with his weight on his shoulders, ass in the air. He knew where it was going, always knew on some level what Jack wanted, but still struggled against him as Jack pulled. “Hold yourself open. So I can do this _properly_.”

“I hate you,” Ianto said, voice lost in the pillows as he let Jack guide his hands. He did as he was told, embarrassment a tight coil in his chest. He pulled at the knickers with a little finger, swearing as the front rubbed against his cock. 

“Liar.” Jack’s tongue slid around his hole, pausing every few passes to dip inside. 

It never stopped feeling strange, never stopped feeling _filthy_ , no matter how many times Jack bent him over. And Jack could do this for hours, would if Ianto would let him. Could sit on his knees, mouth sucking at Ianto’s hole until Ianto’s legs went weak and his eyes went cross and his cock wailed with impatience. 

The rough pad of a fingertip slid into him, slicked by spit, and Ianto pushed back against it. Sweat gathered under his palms, across his back. He tugged at the panties again and moaned. He wanted Jack’s hand on his cock, wanted Jack behind him and in front of him, hands and mouth everywhere at once. 

For a fleeting moment, he thought about two Jacks and the damage they could do to him. He’d die. His heart would stop and they’d have to write _death by shagging_ on his paperwork.

The tip of Jack’s tongue slid hot and slick next to his finger, stretching Ianto open. He curled it and Ianto jerked. Jack laughed, the vibration moving through Ianto’s body, straight into the core of him. When he pressed a second finger in, too fast and too hard and just right, Ianto slumped against the mattress. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Jack said. The bed shifted as he lifted up. His fingers stilled, shoved deep into Ianto, and the sharp sound of zipper being pulled down filled the bunker. “Legs together, you can do it.” When Ianto complied, Jack’s fingers shifted in him and the knickers rubbed against his cock and Ianto moaned wantonly. 

Jack pressed his cock between Ianto’s thighs, the way eased by the sweat gathering there. It felt hot even through the satin. He thrust forward, fingers and hips working together, and Ianto swore. 

“You love this,” Jack said, leaning in to breathe it against Ianto’s neck. He fucked Ianto with short, hard thrusts that made the mattress groan. Ianto’s hands slipped on his own skin, fingertips digging into the tense muscles of his ass. Jack licked a patch of skin over his shoulder blade, tongue darting out to taste his sweat. “Prim, _proper_ Ianto Jones in women’s pants, holding himself open while being fucked.” Ianto flushed, squeezing his eyes shut. The sharp, heady rush of pleasure made him dizzy. “One for the books.”

“Jack-” Ianto moved back against him, trying to get more. He wanted Jack’s cock in him, wanted to push back until he could suck Jack off, wanted to rub himself against Jack until he came. The possibilities were endless. “Jack, please-”

Jack reached around him and Ianto groaned when his hand finally, _finally_ slid into the knickers and wrapped around his cock. 

“Go on,” Jack said, snapping his hips forward. He crooked his fingers, and spots flickered behind Ianto’s eyelids. “Come for me. Come in your pretty knickers.” 

“You-” Ianto’s insult fell flat when Jack twisted his hand over the head of Ianto’s cock. Jack’s dick rubbed up against his, pressed against his tight balls, and Ianto came, choking out a moan. 

Jack removed his fingers, ignoring Ianto’s exhausted whine, and hauled him up. Ianto tried to tighten the space between his thighs, tried to hold himself up as Jack pulled him back against his chest. Jack thrust up against him, biting at Ianto’s throat and groping the wet, ruined material of the knickers. It was too much.

Ianto reached up, fumbling to get his hand behind Jack’s head. He pulled at Jack’s hair, trying to find leverage. Jack was a violent, rutting thing and Ianto _loved every second of it_. Fuck normal sex. Fuck his dignity. He’d give it all up for this, for Jack holding him and fucking him and losing himself entirely. 

Jack stilled, teeth sinking into Ianto’s shoulder as he came. Ianto felt it through the panties- thick, wet pulses that left him absolutely soaked. 

Jack tipped over onto his side, dragging Ianto down with him. His chest rose and fell quickly, his pants shaped through his grin. He looked so young, so _free_. Something twisted in Ianto’s chest.

“Satisfied?” He asked, kicking the knickers off. They were absolutely ruined, inside and out. He pushed at them until they fell onto the floor with a wet slap. Ianto crinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Think I could talk you into wearing them under your suit?” Jack asked, eyebrows raised and grin on at full wattage. Ianto scowled. He felt sticky and too sweaty and sore and overwhelmingly tired. And well fucked, and utterly, soppily happy. Not that he’d let on to that last one. 

“Not under pain of death,” he said. Jack laughed and pulled him in, dropping a kiss to his forehead. Ianto rested his head against Jack’s sweaty shoulder and closed his eyes. 

He’d burn the knickers in the morning and call it a job well done.


End file.
